Praise for the DCI Banks series

Near, perhaps even at the top of, the British crime writers’ league.

The Alan Banks mystery-suspense novels are the best series on the market. Try one and tell me I’m wrong.

This is vintage Banks – a dogged search for truth which never once loses its grip on its hero’s intuition and charm.

The master of the police procedural.

Robinson is prolific, but with each book he manages to ring the changes.

Banks’ slow but dogged pursuit of murderers and his meditations on the past make him a figure readers feel they know intimately and trust implicitly and, despite moments of darkness, the series warmth makes you feel all’s right with the world.

Robinson has a unique knack of revealing to the layman the painstaking and ingenious ways in which the numerous experts who work for the police can wheedle out the most infinitesimal clues surrounding a suspicious death

Robinson also has a way of undercutting the genre’s familiarity. With a deceptively unspectacular language, he sets about the process of unsettling the reader.

Banks is up against people tracking, racism, drug dealing and murder, in this unfinchingly tough case. It kicks of with the discovery of a Middle Eastern boy’s body stuffed in a wheelie bin and twists and shocks from there

Nobody can touch Robinson when it comes to scalpel-sharp police procedurals and Many Rivers to Cross is one of his very best.

Many Rivers To Cross is a well-written and suspenseful crime novel that will be welcomed and read by Peter Robinson’s many fans, as well as newcomers to the crime series.

Reliable procedural entertainment from a pro’s pro, with an ending that guarantees more drama ahead.

Many Rivers to Cross is an ultra-modern novel. It covers subjects that are brutal and pitiless, and probably not in the experience of a high percentage of its readers, but are very relevant to today’s world and perhaps always have been. Robinson’s subject matter for his trilogy is easy to regard as being a million miles from our experience, but nevertheless it exists, and it should not exist. Robinson’s exposure in a detective book primarily meant to be read for pleasure is a brave move, but works brilliantly well. We have the horror of being involved in the loathing and bestiality of the crimes, and the joy and satisfaction when at least some of them are cornered and their reign of terror has ended. We pay homage to Banks and to Robinson for having pulled this off, and we sleep easier. I look forward to the final book in this brilliant trilogy.